


Notch in the Bedpost

by Culumacilinte



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), Doctor Who - Various Authors
Genre: Bondage, Dungeon, F/M, Iris is a Doctor-loving pervert, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Culumacilinte/pseuds/Culumacilinte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which dungeon!sex is made out to be much sexier and exotic than it probably really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notch in the Bedpost

_At least once in every regeneration_ , Iris crowed internally.  _At least-- bloody-- **once**_.

'Once what?' the Doctor gasped, and after a moment of disorientation wherein she realised she must have accidentally been speaking out loud, Iris hushed him distractedly.  Just like him, infernally curious even when he was in bed-- to use the term euphemistically.  If she was going to be literal, she would have said 'even when he was shackled to a dungeon wall.'  Which, really, was much more exciting than a bed in the first place.

The Doctor's head was thrown back against said wall, his fair hair darkened at the temples by perspiration, his ordinarily pale lips darkened by Iris's forceful kisses, and all she could think was that this was about as lucky as she'd got in a long bloody time.  They'd ended up in chains together in the same cell entirely by accident, as it had happened, but Iris Wildethyme was never one to let such an opportunity slip through her fingers.  The Doctor had a nasty habit of running away from her whenever things started to look serious, and she was buggered if she wasn't taking advantage of having the man unable to do so for once.  Particularly as it was this Doctor, who was just about as skittish as he was pretty- and he was _awfully_ pretty, almost as nice as the velvety, Victorian one.

'Iris,' he was pouting at her, and she couldn't resist leaning forward to take that lower lip in between her teeth, sucking on it until his mouth dropped open and he groaned.  ' _Iris_ ,' he persisted breathily, making a valiant effort at his usual cool disapproval.  'I am _not_ some notch to be marked off on your bedpost.'

'M'bedframe's made of Rallimaufrian iron, luvvie, I couldn't put a notch in it if I wanted to.'

Her smile dazzled, and she gave the Doctor absolutely no chance to respond, rolling her body sinuously against his, taking visceral pleasure in the hard heat of his erection against her stomach.  The little crinkles at the corners of the Doctor's eyes deepened as he squeezed them shut.  'I was- _nnh_ \- I was being figurative.'

'Oh, bless,' chuckled Iris.  He tried so hard, he really did.

She hadn't expected him to throw himself into proceedings quite as much as he had.  A quick blowjob, she'd thought, indulge herself a bit, enjoy a pretty meal while she had one, but the way he'd been moaning and whimpering, well, it was enough to make Iris think that maybe Koschei had a point, the way he waxed poetic about this particular body of the Doctor's.  Kneeling in front of him, making a meal of sucking and licking and rubbing her mouth and cheeks all over his cock, she'd chanced to pull back and look up- just to check what effect she was having on him, you understand- to see those broad, strong hands of his twisting in their bindings, gripping the chains that bound him to the wall with clear frustration.  Those were the hands, Iris had thought, of a man who wanted to just bury his hands in her hair and urge her to get on with it.  That thought had sent a coil of liquid heat tightening through her.  Like _hell_ was she settling for getting him off quick before he found a proper argument against it when he clearly had an appetite for more.

Now, back on her feet, she took him in with a lick of her lips.  Jumper and shirt rucked up around his ribs, absurd striped trousers and pants shoved down just enough to give Iris access- he was flushed, panting and dishevelled, and looked good enough to eat.  Iris fully intended to.

'Down ye go, chuck.'  A quick bit of work from the bodkin she kept in her boot took care of the pin holding his manacles to the wall, and the Doctor collapsed in an ungainly heap, clearly unprepared for the sudden lack of support.  Iris giggled madly, dropping down on top of him with a little _Oof!_ as her kneecaps made a sudden, sharp renewal of their acquaintance with the rough, stone floor.

He stared up at her with wide eyes, seeming surprised to find himself on the floor, with Iris suddenly on top of him.  'Iris?'

'Doctor?' she purred.

'I-' His breathing stuttered as she pressed down on him, articulating lazy figure eights with her hips which- if she was honest, which she rarely was- were just as frustrating to her as they were to him.  His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.  'Shouldn't- er, that is to say, thank you for getting me down, but could you- oh, _god_ , Iris- ah, get me out of these while you're at it?'

The chain still holding his manacled wrists together clanked rather sadly as he weakly proffered his hands.  Smirking, Iris hooked her forefinger through the centre link, pulling the Doctor awkwardly up towards her.  'Mmm, no, I don't think so.  I rather like ye in bondage; funny I haven't tried it yet.  Or then again, maybe I have.'  She giggled again, stretching over him to urge his arms over his head, and in one neat move, looped the chain around a pin in the floor undoubtedly meant for holding fetters.

'Well, _I_ don't.'

He was pouting again, making a perfunctory effort at straining against his chains, but his eyes never strayed from Iris as she wrangled off her knickers, tugging them over knee-high, zebra-striped platform boots.  And if her dignity fell somewhat by the wayside while she was doing so, well, it clearly made no difference to the Doctor, and little enough to Iris herself when, knickers thus disposed of, she sank down on top of him.  A sort of gasping, whimpering breath forced itself out of his lungs, and Iris groaned throatily.

'So ye say, Doctor,' she bit out, rocking down onto him.  'But this claims different.'

She could anticipate all the protests he was aching to come out with- that it was just a physical reaction, nothing more, that Iris had taken advantage of a situation, that it had been a very long time, thank you very much, and he could hardly be blamed if certain bits of him didn't want to cooperate with his brain- but she didn't give him the chance.  Iris hadn't had this one yet, and she was going to enjoy him.  This time, she pushed herself up further, the muscles in smooth thighs tensing, and when she slammed down, the Doctor _squeaked_ , his fingers wrapping around the chains again. 

Iris imagined the muscles in his pretty pale arms tensing, and almost wished she could have his jacket off, but there was something about desperate, mostly-dressed sex on a dungeon floor that was just _piquant_.  Romance novel fodder, almost.

Impatient, the Doctor wriggled his hips, growling ' _Iris_ ,' and a wave of unexpected pleasure wrapped itself around her nerve endings, sending her clenching around him, muscles rippling with sensation. 

'Ooooh, _Doctor_ ,' she giggled, breath catching as she worked to find something like a rhythm, little gasps and laughter intermingling in each exhalation.  'Ye _are_ a feisty one this time around, I like it.  _Ohh_ \- oh, and ye _do_ know what yer doing!  I bet all that beige vanilla bollocks is just for show, eh?'

The Doctor didn't bother answering, and Iris was just fine with that.  As much as she liked to chatter, there was also something to be said to giving herself over to rhythm and the stretch she could feel around the Doctor's prick, the surging, throbbing arousal that washed through her with every time she slid down on him, wet and hot.  Her mouth fell open, slack and wet, as she rose and fell above him, hands splaying up under his jumper, nails digging into soft skin and making his whimpers ratchet up even higher.

When he finally came, he jerked up into her, his head thrashing to the side on his neck and his eyes squeezing shut, her name a breath on his lips.  Iris couldn't help the tiny glow of warmth she felt at that, at the reverence and gasping pleasure in it, the Doctor saying her name.  Sentimental old fool, she was.  Her mind didn't stay on romance for much longer; the Doctor was moaning her name again, low and rough, almost a protest as she kept riding him, and the winding tension in her gut snapped, swamping her.  She screamed her pleasure up at the ceiling, and then collapsed, giggling, into his shoulder.

Several long moments passed.

'Um, Iris?'

'Mmm?' she nuzzled against his neck.

Underneath her, the Doctor shifted uncomfortably, trying to strike a balance between not rubbing up against Iris too much, and minimising contact with the floor.  'Could I prevail upon you to move?  You're a bit- ah- well, yes.'

'Mmm.'

'And perhaps get me out of these chains?'

'Chuck?'  Iris propped herself up on her hands, looking down at him quite seriously.  'Yer ruining the mood.'

With a sigh, the Doctor fell back, and shut up.


End file.
